Their Neverending Reflection
by Islander2
Summary: Dobby is remodeling the headmaster’s quarters for McGonagall. In the process, he moves Dumbledore’s Old Bedroom Mirror down into storage with McGonagall’s New Bedroom Mirror. What thus ensues? Read and find out!


Disclaimer: Mine? As if!

**Their Neverending Reflection**

**August 29**

Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror hadn't seen a single soul in over a year. He had last seen Dumbledore himself last June before the headmaster gallivanted off on one of his adventures. The old man never returned.

A few days later Professor McGonagall had come in and taken away all of Dumbledore's personal possessions. Then she made the bed, straightened the writing desk by the window, swept the room, drew the curtains, and closed all the doors. That was the last that Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror saw of McGonagall as she left with a tear in her eye.

The sunlight stopped at the crimson curtains and left the room in the constant gloom of a semidarkness. Dust motes grew from the floorboards and swirled themselves around the room, eventually landing on every surface from the bed to the shining, full-length Mirror.

And that's when the Mirror began to grow sleepy. For years he had stood awake and alert against Dumbledore's wall while the lions, ravens, badgers, and snakes that adorned his frame shuffled softly in their own gleam. But, as the darkness fell upon the bedroom, the animals carved into his golden border became weary, as if tired of tramping around in the dust that coated itself to their bodies. The Mirror's surface lost his shimmer, and he stopped caring if he ever saw a living soul again.

Today he heard voices. It didn't surprise him; nor did he get his hopes up. He often heard McGonagall, along with a few other teachers, talking in Dumbledore's office, but none of them ever entered the bedroom. Why should things be different today? Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror didn't care anyway; he was so tired as it was, and all he really wanted to do was to sink into an everlasting sleep.

". . . We is taking a few days to remodel everything, Mistress," a squeaky voice said right outside the door. "But we is not to be taking long. Mistress will have her own living quarters before school is starting."

At that moment the door swung open, and two figures entered the dusty bedroom. One was a tall, thin woman with her hair drawn up in a painfully-tight bun. _Professor McGonagall_, the Mirror realized wearily. The other person—no, creature—was not even half McGonagall's height. _It's one of the house-elves, I'll bet._

And so it was. The little creature crossed over to the window and flung open the curtains. Sunlight streamed into the room. The animals on the frame of Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror winced at the barrage of brightness released so suddenly after his year in the dark.

It was at this time that the Mirror got a better look at the house-elf. Such a queer creature this was! He had abandoned the customary pillowcase and had instead donned a jumper and football shorts, both of which were too big for him. The elf also wore a black sock, a puce sock, a wizard's hat, and even a pair of round, black glasses with no lenses. "What should Dobby be doing to this room?" the creature asked McGonagall.

"I don't know," McGonagall said listlessly. "It hardly matters. I still feel wrong about moving into Albus's living quarters, even though he's been gone for a year now."

Dobby's large ears wagged severely. "All headmasters and headmistresses is living here!" he informed McGonagall. "You is to be no different!"

The elf surveyed the room with a critical gaze. His gaze ran across the wooden walls, the myriad of portraits, the bed with its starred, blue comforter, the en suite bathroom, and finally onto Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror. "You is to be needing a few changes," Dobby said.

"Like what?" McGonagall asked. "Is there anything wrong with the room the way it is? I mean, I'll eventually get around to changing some things myself, but it seems fine right now."

"The Mirror is a boy mirror," Dobby said firmly. "It is not to be seeing Mistress dressing."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows and muttered to herself, "Whoever would have thought?"

Dobby snapped his fingers, and two house-elves appeared a moment later with a _pop!_ The crazily-dressed elf told his coworkers, "We is needing to move this mirror to storage. Ibby, you is staying to help Mistress. Clockles, you is coming with me."

And Dobby walked up to the Mirror and sent a bolt of blue light at the golden frame from his fingers. The Mirror felt himself separate from the wall and hang suspended in midair. Dobby waved his hand again, and the Mirror began floating gently across the room and towards the door.

_At last!_ Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror thought. _They're taking me to a place where I can go to sleep forever._ And his consciousness slowly faded as Dobby and Clockles took him deeper into the school.

It seemed an age later that the two house-elves finally levitated the Mirror through a door and into a small storage space. He landed with a soft _thud_ against the stone wall. A great deal of the dust that coating his shimmering glass fell away and floated gently to the floor.

"Is we to be covering him?" Clockles asked Dobby.

Dobby shook his head, and his ears flapped outrageously. "No, we is not. The mirror is old and is losing its magic. We is getting rid of it in a few days, after we remodel Mistress's living quarters."

And the two house-elves left.

Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror could help feeling depressed. Here he was at his life's end, and the house-elves had thrown him down here to be forgotten. "Here" being his new abode, which was a tiny square of a stone room. A skylight from above shed a pale golden stream of sunshine into the cubicle and lit up his surroundings. The Mirror caught the opposite side of the room in his gaze, then gasped at what he saw.

Straight across from him, leaning against the opposite side of the wall, was a full-length mirror. Most of it hid behind a large white sheet, but Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror saw by the gleaming golden foot that poked out from beneath the covering that this mirror was clearly very new.

_I've never seen another mirror before, _Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror realized. _Not since I was first made. But I can barely remember the day when I got my magic. . . when I first got my life. Mirrors surrounded me then. It should make sense that I die with a mirror in front of me one last time._

A badger on the frame of the Mirror's surface stirred. It shuffled through a layer of dust and nudged one of the majestic lions into waking. It let out an inquisitive purr, and a nearby snake awoke with a start. A raven, meanwhile, dropped down upon the lion's shoulder, and the four animals waited expectantly, staring at the mirror across from them.

The pristine sheet that hung over the new mirror moved ever so slightly. Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror was suddenly more alert as he watched the covering that separated his gaze from the gaze of this newcomer. The sheet moved again.

Then it slipped from frame and fell gently to the floor. It whispered away against the adjacent wall and curled out of sight. And Dumledore's Old Bedroom Mirror got a full look at this wonderful new creation.

The new mirror was like him in many ways. She was just his size, and her own frame seemed made of the same gold. Their glass reflections seemed identical, even. But her frame crawled with tabby cats, and not a single speck of dust tarnished her pure surface.

What hit Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror the hardest, however, was her reflection. As the sheet fell away, the sunlight streamed in through the skylight and caught her glass surface. The shimmer danced back and forth between the two mirror, and the room sparkled with an eerily glorious glow. Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror was speechless, and suddenly more awake than he had even been in the past year. The animals around his surface all awoke eagerly to stare in awe at the sight before them.

For a full hour the two mirrors simply gazed at each other as the sunlight shone between them in the endless reflection between their shimmering surfaces. Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror couldn't turn his gaze away from their neverending reflection that filled her frame—a reflection that showed the two of them inside each other, going on forever.

Then he finally whispered, "Who are you?" His voice was weary from age, but filled with wonder.

The cats on her surface stirred to life. "I don't know," came her soft reply. Her own voice was also soft, but fresh and unused. "I'm not quite sure yet. The creatures that carried me here said that I was to be 'McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror.' What is a McGonagall?"

"She is a teacher here at this school," he replied. "But she's moving into Headmaster Dumbledore's old quarters. I know this because I am Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror, and the house-elves just moved me out."

"The house-elves?" McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror asked curiously.

"Those were the creatures that took you here," he explained. "And I can only assume that they're moving McGonagall into the Headmaster's quarters because. . . because the Headmaster must be gone."

"I suppose so," she said. "I believe I heard the house-elves talk about him as they took me here. They said he's dead."

"Did they?" Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror said sadly. "I am sorry to hear it. He was such a nice man." He let out a mournful sigh. "What else did they say?"

The new mirror paused a moment before replying, "They talked about a war. . . they said it was over. Hogwarts—is that this school?— is opening again, and McGonagall is the new Headmistress."

Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror pondered this new information. "It grieves me that Dumbledore dead," he said softly. "He was a great man and a great Headmaster. But McGonagall is an upright woman and a wonderful teacher; she can bring as much to this school as Dumbledore did."

"Tell me more about them," McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror requested. "I want to hear about them,

and about this entire school."

**August 30**

The day passed into nighttime, then into the wee hours of the next morning. Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror spent the entire time teaching McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When he started speaking his voice was weary and soft. But, as the hours piled upon one another, his voice grew stronger, louder. His magic was almost used up, but he would use the last of it doing something useful. He wouldn't let this new mirror go into Hogwarts without any knowledge of how it ran. And he told her so.

"It was horrible for me during my first few years," he explained as he gazed into their neverending reflection. "I was in a state of constant confusion, what with house-elves popping in and out of the bedroom and Dumbledore talking endlessly about his wide and varied lifestyle. I swear, that man _enjoyed_ talking to mirrors."

"Do you think McGonagall will do the same?" she asked him interestedly.

"She doesn't strike me as the type who does," Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror admitted. "But I do believe you'll you live a long, happy life with her."

And they lapsed into silence. McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror waited patiently as the moon crept across the reflection in her glass. The cats on her golden frame frisked playfully with one another, happily amusing themselves in the stillness of the night. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the animals that adorned Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror had grown lethargic once again, and were hardly moving.

"Was there anything else you wished to tell me?" McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror prompted at last.

"I have told you all I can tell you," he replied. His voice had grown weary again, almost to a whisper. "My magic is rapidly leaving me."

The cats on her frame stopped their playing and huddled together in little groups as they stared worriedly at the mirror opposite them. "Is there nothing you can do about it?" McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror asked anxiously.

"Nothing," he said surely. "It happens to all of us. Not even magical mirrors can live forever. In a few days my magic will have left me."

"But that's awful!" she exclaimed. The cats around her frame looked ready to cry. "I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better about this."

"You already have," he answered softly. A single lion on his frame stood up just long enough to give her a weary smile. "I have never seen a mirror, not since I was first made. But now, as my life leaves me, I get to be with my own kind. I get to see myself reflected in you forever."

"So after this I will never see you again?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

"We probably would have never met again, even if I had stayed alive," he replied. "Anyway, you wouldn't have remembered me. I am old, and I remember a lot. But I was once young, just like you, and I remember very little of those bygone days. That's how it is with life. The young listen to the old and forget. But the old remember the young forever and ever."

"No," she said, her voice choked. The cats on her frame her crying. "That's not how it is. That's not how it will be."

"Is it not?" he replied, the single conscious lion staring at her with his sad eyes.

"No," she insisted. "You see, I see the two of us in your mirror. Right now, our neverending reflection is in us both. I see myself going on forever in you. And, in the same token, you are going on forever in me. That is how it will always be—forever. And that is as long as I will remember you."

A crystalline tear fell from the eye of the lion on his frame. It hit the ground with a soft _plop_ and created a shimmering ring in the soft moonlight. "Please stay with me," Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror whispered. "Please. I don't want to be alone when my life leaves me."

The cats were still crying, but they nodded their assent. "I'll stay with you," said McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror. "I promise."

**August 31**

The next day passed in silence, broken only by occasionally questions from McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror. Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror answered mainly in monosyllables, not having the energy to do more.

As dawn broke on the 31st of August, she whispered, "Are you still there?"

"Yes," he whispered back, his voice weary. "But just barely. Don't leave me."

"I won't," she whispered back. Then they were silent again, and dawn peeked in through the skylight and spilled his soft liquid sunshine into the room to be reflected endlessly between the two mirrors.

Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror sighed softly in the stillness. _My magic is not like our neverending reflection, _he reflected, _for it does not go on forever. I am sad to know that my life has reached its end. I certainly never wanted to reach this day. But I have, and I cannot change it. I will die happy, as long as she stays with me_.

And he gazed at her, his heart swelling with contentment. "Don't leave me," he rasped, so gently that even she didn't hear him. The lion, still the only waking animal on his frame, dropped to its knees and gazed at the gallivanting kittens on her frame. These cats had long since dried their tears and were now interacting happily with one another, glad to be alive.

_Your own time will come, McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror_, he said silently. _I can only hope, when that days arrives, that you have someone as kind as yourself to help you through your passing._ McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror couldn't hear him, and of course didn't respond.

Then the door on the adjacent wall flew open, letting in light from the hallway outside. Dobby and Clockles entered the room and stopped in front of the two mirrors.

"Alas, the sheet is coming off the new mirror!" Clockles bemoaned. "Oh, what is the Mistress to be doing to us? Is she being frightfully angry soon?"

"We is having to bear up the best we can," Dobby reasoned. "Dobby can dust it up before Mistress is seeing it."

_They're taking McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror away!_ Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror realized in horror. _She can't leave me, not until my magic does! They can't do this!_

"Clockles will take Mistress her new bedroom mirror right away," Clockles said. "We is not wanting to get behind with remodeling."

"We is nearly done with remodeling," Dobby said, "but Clockles is right. No time wasting."

_Don't leave me, McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror!_ Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror meant to say this aloud, but his magic was quickly leaving him. He couldn't even whisper. _Please, you said you'd stay!_

Dobby snapped his fingers, and McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror rose from the floor. Then, with a wave of his hands, the house-elf guided the mirror towards the door. Her glass still faced Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror. Their neverending relfection had not yet broken.

_DON'T LEAVE ME!_

The cats pushed themselves as far out of the frame as they could, their innocent eyes wide with fear. But the animals on his frame didn't move at all. Only the lone lion was still awake, his paw feebly reaching out towards the young kittens.

_DON'T LEAVE ME. . .!_

She was at the door.

_DON'T. . .! DON'T. . . Don't. . ._

_Leave me._

At that moment every single animal on his frame awoke, shaking the dust from their bodies. The lions roared majestically and stamped at the ground. The ravens flew about the frame with screaming caws. The badgers crawled back and forth, snuffling violently. The serpents slithered in between them all, their fierce hisses lacing the entire scene. Then Dumbledore's Old Bedroom Mirror swung fully away from the wall and plummeted to the ground, right at the feet of McGonagall's New Bedroom Mirror. His shining surface shattered, then spread across the floor in a pool of glass. Every animal on his frame was crushed.

The last thing he saw was this: she had kept her promise. She was still there.

Then his life left him.

**The End**

A/N: I originally planned for this story to be a romance, but it turned out a bit differently. I'm please with it all the same. Right now I'm working on my first novel-length fanfic. It's called "The Scarlett Letter," and I am currently starting Chapter 7 out of 9. Expect me to start posting it sometime in September. I don't yet know if I'll be posting any more one-shots between now and then—it just depends on whether I write one or not! Bye for now.

Islander


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